Free HIS By Design -Coveting Claire by Helen Karol

 Once
prepared, they carried the meal to the nook and ate companionably.
 Discussing various topics and passing pleasantries the meal
seemed no different from the hundreds of meals they’d shared in
previous years.
    Yet it was. Intensely different.
    Claire was subtly aware of the aura of
difference throughout the meal.  Now she looked out through
the window to where Julian stood on the deck where she'd shooed him
insisting on cleaning up alone.  He was turned partly towards
the ocean, so she'd a three-quarter view of him.  He raised
his coffee mug. As he bent his head to drink, the sea breeze caught
at the front of his hair gently playing with his fringe.
     A wave of tenderness washed over her.
Smiling, she carried the dishes to the dishwasher, looking back at
him as she loaded it.  Suddenly she felt new again. All the
feelings of the past weeks slipped from her. The soul-searching.
The indecision.  She felt the same way she felt when she
stepped off that plane in New York three years ago. As if she stood
on the brink of discovery. 

    *****

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    Boston. S aturday
29 th June. Craig Gold Legacy Memorial
Ball

    “Oh, girlfriend, that beautiful man wants
you, bad.”
    As usual, Terri has no brain to mouth filter.
I throw her a warning glare and continue polishing the glass in my
hand as we stand behind the bar. I feel weird because we're wearing
cocktail dresses like the other women, only we're caught between
the guests and the help. We're volunteering as sorority pledges at
the charity event in order to flesh out our law school scholarship
applications.
    “Making the dean’s list isn’t enough, these
days,” our advisers tell us. “The awarders want to know you care.”
So here we are. Caring.
    And me being wanted.
    I want to tell Terri that she's wrong. That
the dangerous, urbane, gorgeous, sexy man one hundred feet across
the enormous ballroom does not want me. That he's actually oozing
magnetism and pheromones at some other poor prey. But I know I
can’t because she's privy to the fact that he's told me that he
does.
    He was very matter of fact about it. He just
stood across from me, an acceptable distance between us, and told
me in a confident, hungry demand. Like he was asking for the
specialty dish of the house. I imagine that's a fair comparison. I
appeal to his appetite and he needs to satisfy the craving. I'm
still desperately trying to convince myself that I'm immune and
will not be the latest item on Leo Gold’s menu.
    “Only because he can’t have me.”
    “Oh, sweetie, he can have you. He knows it,
you know it, I know it - hell, this whole fucking room knows
it.”
    “Shut. Up. You are an utterly useless friend.
You're supposed to be supporting my resistance.”
    “Well you know me, I’m never one for lost
causes.”
    I become silent. I radiate disapproval and
hurt feelings, hoping to make her feel guilty. I realize it's
working when she starts polishing glasses along with me and speaks
in a sulky voice.
    “Ok. So why is it we're resisting him? Oh
yeah, he’s gorgeous, rich, intelligent and hot with bad boy charm.
What’s to resist?”
    “He’s young enough to be my s...” I offer a
plausible excuse.
    “Oh no, don’t you dare finish that. No way
were you capable of breeding at eleven. You know age doesn’t matter
these days and he doesn’t know you’re older than he is. But even if
he did, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t care.”
    “I guess.” I grumble, part of me resenting
the lack of secrecy having a best friend you share almost
everything with creates. Almost everything, because I can’t tell
her the real reason I must hold this beautiful man at arm’s length.
That is classified.
    Terri knows my real identity and age. FBI
approved, she's briefed on the protocols of having an undercover
cop as a best friend. I'm briefed on how much I can tell her.